


Blind Comprehension

by Lotusunset



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, First Time, Older Man/Younger Woman, kinda dom Christine kinda sub Erik, sassy christine daae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotusunset/pseuds/Lotusunset
Summary: After Erik demands to see her in that infernal wedding dress, he is overwhelmed and tries to send her away.  Only this time, she refuses to back down.x-posted to ff.net
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	Blind Comprehension

“This was a mistake--a terrible mistake!” He clenched his fists and wrapped his arms around his chest with a desperate, strangling grip.

“Are you ill?” Christine demanded in a shrill, worried tone. She took a step closer to him, hand outstretched as if she could catch the towering man if he fell. He could only scoff as his hungry animal’s eyes devoured her. How unbearable it was to see her in that glimmering white satin. To see the wedding veil perched upon the crown of her perfect head.

“No,” Erik protested, “Though, I suppose it is a sort of sickness, in a way...Why don’t you retire to your room for a while and leave me alone, I am quite certain this shall pass.” His voice wavered as he tried to keep it steady. All his strength, all his self-control was rapidly unraveling.

“If you are ill, then I should stay,” Christine replied, raising her chin with a pointed motion to challenge his command.

“Damn you!” Erik threw a fist into the piano, setting a discordant set of notes free from the strings. “Damn you and your infernal innocence, you bloody ignorant child! Go to your room and bolt the door, do you hear me? Bolt your door!” Erik growled, his unhinged state more clear with every word.

And yet, Christine, dressed in her bride’s costume, showed no signs of retreating.

She lowered her own eyes and clenched her fists as her own temper boiled over to collide with Erik’s. When her eyes rose to meet his, a vicious darkness had crept into them.

“Damn me?” She started, ripping the veil from her head and throwing it at Erik’s feet. “Damn _you_ for thinking you can simply shoo me away whenever I am an inconvenience to you!”

“Why yes, you are a horrible inconvenience when you are too pure and dull to sense the incredible amount of danger you are in,” Erik sneered, his self-imposed chains crumbling away. He stepped away from the piano, gliding towards Christine with fiery intent.

“How dare you,” she spat, “How dare you assume what I can and cannot perceive. You do not get to bring me here and fill my mind with limitless knowledge and then get to decide my opinions for me.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as he approached her. He stood to his full height and loomed over her, a vile smirk on his vile lips behind his mask of silk. As he came closer, Christine could only step backwards to avoid the impending collision.

“And what, pray tell, are your opinions on your current situation, my dear?” He laughed again, curling his skeletal fingers around her chin, yet refusing to touch her. “This shall be a grand _comique_ for the ages! Do you think that you are safe within these walls? That you can simply ward off the terrible monster with your misplaced pity?”

“You lock me in or shut me out whenever it suits you as if I don’t matter to you at all. It feels as though I am nothing to you but a voice,” Christine countered with unflinching resolve, despite the fact that her back was now pressed against the wall.

“Is that truly what you believe? That you are nothing to me? Then you are far more dull than I thought, Christine,” Erik said with hot venom. 

“Then what is it that you want from me? You are not typically forthcoming with your words. You speak in ridiculous riddles that leave one to guess at your true intentions. You never speak plainly, thinking that your tiresome tricks are clever,” Christine rambled on in one, impassioned breath.

“I want,” Erik started, his ghostly fingers brushing the air along her pale, white neck, “I want for you to properly realize the utter absurdity of your words. The dam is about to burst. I only wish to protect you from the flood.”

“I’m not afraid,” Christine replied calmly. The fire in Erik’s eyes grew brighter, cutting through the shadows of his sunken sockets.

“Oh Christine...you should be,” and at that, his hand slid around her arm. His nails dug into her skin and his grip was tight enough to bruise. He pulled her away from the wall and dragged her along behind him. Christine fought him, digging her heels into the carpet and flailing her arm in his grasp.

Blood pounding in his head, Erik struggled to maintain what little composure he had left. All he could see was red. Murderous rage. Scalding hot desire. A relentless surge of feeling was throwing him off kilter in a way that he could not have predicted. What had sparked her outburst? What did it mean? 

“Stop this, Erik” She protested, “I am not a trinket to be placed on a shelf when you’re finished with me!”

He rounded on her, slamming her against the door to her room. One hand still choking her arm, the other holding her petite shoulder to the wood. The force of impact squeezed a small, squeaky gasp from her lungs.

“What is it that _you_ want, Christine?” He demanded, bending over her. Her lips parted. Her tongue slid out to wet them. That intolerable heat was growing hotter, sitting below his stomach and tightening his throat. Her eyes darted from him to the ceiling, from the floor to the wall. She couldn’t find her words. This only stoked his temper further.

“Since you cannot determine an answer,” Erik let go of her arm and leaned a little closer. He reached for the door knob, his intent to throw her in there and lock the door himself.

She stopped him. Her smaller hand clenched his. When Erik instinctively pulled his hand away, she only held his tighter. His breathing quickened. She... _wanted_ him to hover over her like a swirling storm cloud? Did she have any idea what she was doing at all?

“Christine,” he hissed her name in warning.

She lifted her other, shaking hand and placed it on his broad, thin shoulder. Her fingers crept along the fabric, getting closer and closer to his neck. He leaned away, expecting her to make an attempt at thieving his mask. He could not have anticipated what actually happened next.

Her hand stopped once her fingers were brushing against the skin--his skin!-- at the back of his neck. She pulled him closer and closer to her, until there was no space left between them. She pulled his lips down to hers. 

She kissed him through the mask’s silken fabric. It took two tries before her lips fully settled against his misshapen ones. She pressed forward, lips moving and searching for a response from his. He was paralyzed, lips stunned and frozen behind the mask.

When he had recovered enough from the shock, he pulled away from her. Christine fixed him with a gaze full of hurt and confusion.

“What on Earth are you doing?” he gasped. Christine bit her lip and looked down.

“You...you asked me what I wanted,” She stated plainly. Erik’s shallow, anxious breaths grew quicker. His mask was now clinging to his skin from the wetness of her lips. With her still so close, his already ravaged senses could hardly process anything else.

“Why,” He cursed, seizing her chin and forcing her eyes up to meet his. “Why do you toy with me so?” Christine’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

“Why can’t you accept that I have thoughts and feelings of my own? If you do not wish for me to be here with you, you need only say so. I will take my leave and never bother you again.”

His heart leapt into his throat at her words. Behind the mask, his eyes softened and his tight grip on her jaw loosened. Erik stepped backwards to escape her but was acutely reminded that her hand was still behind his neck, trying to keep him close.

“That’s not what I want,” he murmured, the evidence of his discomfort in his voice. He did not wish to be so frank with her.

“Then tell me,” she whispered. Christine took his hand, the one still grasped in her own and gently placed it at her hip for encouragement.

And it was all he needed for the moment, though no words left his lips.

Erik wrapped his arm around her as he leaned back in and allowed their mouths to collide again. A sigh that he could only interpret as relief left Christine and poured into him. He could faintly taste her breath through the silk. A divine flavor diluted, Erik kissed her harder to catch more of it. She returned the kiss with unashamed enthusiasm. 

They pushed and pulled against each other, his hands finding her waist, her back, her sides. Erik could not find a place to settle them, not that he wanted to. Christine’s hands inched towards the mask as it became quite apparent that this heated kiss through fabric would not sustain them much longer. Her name fell from his lips between kisses, half growled. So utterly overwhelmed, he could not determine if he was ready for that level of familiarity. One of his hands came to cover hers, an automatic, yet half hearted attempt at stopping her from peeling away his mask.

“Do not fret,” Christine assured him as she scrunched the fabric in her hand, slowly pulling it from his collar, “I will not steal it, I only want--”

She cut herself off the moment a sliver of his skin was revealed. Erik jerked back, anticipating the typical, repulsed reaction. Instead, Christine pressed her lips to the newly revealed line of jaw. Then, his chin. She had little patience, her lips seeking out any bit of his skin they could find. He gasped, the sensation far more vibrant without the silk in the way. 

She stopped tugging at the mask once his lips were exposed. Christine drew back for a moment to breathe. Her eyes traced over those deformed, ugly lips with hungry intent. Despite the ache for air still in her chest, she could no longer wait to feel his unhindered lips.

Neither was prepared for the sheer, painful intensity of that kiss, the first with no barrier between. Their voices clashed in loud, desirous cries. That taste of her flooded his senses, overtaking him completely. Christine pulled him down, seeking more and more of him. He pulled her up and pressed her body to the door until her toes were nearly off the ground. 

Her teeth were the first to nip at his skin, his tongue was the first to dive between her lips. Inexperienced and sloppy, neither much cared when teeth clacked together. They only kept moving, the urgent need for each other’s kiss too powerful to resist. After a few sharp, hard gasps escaped Christine, Erik’s senses returned to him with the realization that it seemed she’d rather suffocate than stop. 

“Don’t, Erik,” she protested. He held her face between his hands and moved his thumbs across her cheeks.

“You need to breathe, my dear,” he whispered, stealing softer kisses in between each word. His teeth grazed her lip in much the same way she had done to him, “I will not have you asphyxiate so soon.” 

“No,” she said with dark conviction. She untangled one arm from around him and instead reached for the door knob behind her. “Now that I know what I want, I will have it. Consequences be damned.” 

With a twist of her wrist, the door opened and she pulled him into the room with her.

“You cannot comprehend the consequences of this, Christine,” Erik shook his head.

“May I remind you of our previous conversation in which I insisted that I do, in fact comprehend far more than you believe?” Christine snapped, her eyes dark and poisoned with desire.

“What do you know of lust?” He bitterly growled, unwilling to accept the plain truth standing before him.

“That I only crave such sinfulness when I am with you,” she asserted, staring him down despite the absurd difference in their height. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. He held himself back, even though her words had stoked embers into flames.

“My sweet Christine,” Erik whispered, deliberately drawing out the syllables of her name. His fingers crept to the nape of her neck, weaving through the strands of her hair. He seemed to be paralyzed, wanting so much more of her, but being unable to take it.

“If you don’t kiss me again, I’m afraid I might die,” the words left her before she could clearly think them through. The barest of smiles twitched on his lips before he lowered them to hers. His kiss was tender this time, full of savoring reverence.

But Christine grew impatient. The pooling heat within her demanded more, more than she knew what to do with. She pulled him close again and kissed him harder. Her tongue sought his, needing to taste him fully and feel as much of him as possible. Almost frantic, one hand still clutched his mask and the other moved from his chest, to his back, settling somewhere near his hip. 

It still wasn’t enough to sate her. Her fingers curled into claws, wanting to dig into him and uncover some relief. Burdened with inexperience, she hardly thought herself brave enough to find it. Listening to the most raw part of herself, she refused to back down. She stepped backwards, careful not to get caught in the pleats of satin behind her. 

Erik sighed into her mouth, his kisses growing more frenzied for a moment before he tore his lips away from hers. She whimpered in response but he found a new target, his long fingers suddenly snapping her head to the side, exposing her pale throat. He pulled firmly at her hair and his lips attacked this skin with ruthless abandon. 

Christine gasped as he discovered just how sensitive her skin was to his touch. His teeth sank into her, each nip growing stronger and deeper with each of her pleased little cries. His tongue chased the sting, soothing the dark marks blossoming under her skin. She could feel her pulse everywhere except in her chest, so many other parts of her body begging for attention. Her neck thrummed in anticipation of each new kiss. Her breasts ached from behind the confines of her corset. The heat between her thighs was nigh unbearable.

And she could take no more.

“Lay down on the bed,” she commanded him. Erik froze completely, thrown off kilter by her words.

“What?” He questioned, removing his hands from her person and trying to retreat. He looked down at her. The incredulous look on his face was quite obvious, even behind his disheveled mask.

“After all our lessons, I do believe my French is impeccable,” Christine immediately reached for the lapels of his coat to keep him from escaping. She pulled him towards the bed before he had the chance to fully regain his faculties. 

“Yes,” he murmured, “Yes, of course.” The backs of his legs were pressed up against the edge of the mattress when she released him.

“Well?” Christine questioned, pinning him with her eyes again. Obediently, he sat on the bed. Christine smiled, trying to suppress the growing sense of power in her core. She stood in front of him, now just barely taller than him. She couldn’t resist, Christine reached out to fix the mask to expose his lips again. At the same level, staring at each other eye to eye, she found the allure of his lips even more powerful. She stepped forward, between his legs so that there was precious little space between their middles. Christine leaned against him and pressed her lips to his. Her motions were rather languid this time, taking great pleasure in now savoring their more equal footing. Erik’s hands held her small waist, his quiet, dangerous strength making sure there would be no escaping him now.

Gently, he moved to lay down and pull her on top. With a quick gathering of her skirts, she followed the motion with eager anticipation. _This_ is what she sought, this friction between them, this sublime closeness as they continued to explore each other’s mouths. In a moment of bravery, Erik’s hand just barely caressed the curve of her breasts.

The longer this continued, though, the more frustrated Christine grew. It _still_ was not enough. Her dress was troublesome and in the way. She wanted to taste his neck the same way he had tasted hers. She wanted to hear what sorts of sounds he would make at the pleasure...But just how far could her power over him go?

Christine broke the kiss and leaned back for a moment, catching her breath. There was far more color in his skin than when all of this started, she noted. The grayish, yellow hue of his face had gained a more healthy shade of red. Her wandering fingers traced the shape of his swollen lips.

She wanted to keep pressing forward but was at half of a loss on how to continue. Christine knew what she wanted, she simply didn’t quite know how to acquire it without possibly scaring him away or absolutely embarrassing herself in the process. And then an idea occurred to her. She smirked as their lips collided again.

“Do you trust me?” She asked between kisses. He could not respond immediately, mulling the question over in his head. Erik wanted so badly to trust her, but a lifetime of torment held him back from immediate acceptance. But with all her words leading up to this point, her passionate refusal to let him push her away...

“Yes,” he finally agreed through a low, warning hiss. There would be dangerous consequences for betraying him now, now that she had already put him in a position where he was far more vulnerable than he was used to.

With his assurance, Christine moved forward with her plan. She distracted him with a kiss. She reached behind his head and pulled on the ties of the mask. Immediately, Erik jolted, fearing that she would remove it.

“Not, not yet,” he said, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

“I want you, and I want this,” Christine assured him, gazing deeply into his bright, mismatched eyes, “But I’m not taking the mask.”

Erik forced a knot down his throat, attempting to hide his anxiousness. Instead of removing the mask, Christine was only adjusting it. She folded the silk on itself and re-tied it behind his head. More of his face was exposed, yes, but the most jarring feature of his missing nose was left covered. She had fashioned the mask into a blindfold.

When he opened his eyes and saw only darkness, his hands immediately flew to his face to fix the situation. Christine caught both of his hands before he could accomplish such a goal.

“Trust me,” she repeated, kissing each of his hands sweetly before guiding them to the bed’s headboard.

“What in the world are you up to, Christine?” Erik growled, not wanting to play these silly games.

“Relax,” she pressed her lips to his cheek in a spot she hadn’t been able to reach before, “Keep your hands there until I tell you to move them.”

“Fine,” he said, though it was more of a snarl.

Christine pushed herself off the bed and took the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the image of him laying there. He was so much less imposing all sprawled out across the bed. The rise and fall of his chest was maddening. The long, graceful lines of his body struck her like lightning and she was suddenly very, incredibly aware of the straining growth in his trousers.

With renewed urgency, Christine started unbuttoning her dress. She was only halfway through before she thought she could negotiate it off. Time was of the essence. She wanted to feel his long, beautiful fingers against her bare skin. 

She tossed the dress aside, letting the pile of silks land on the chair in the corner. Her petticoat wound up pooled on the floor and she made quick work of the clasps and ties of her corset, too.

“Christine,” Erik called for her before she could shed any more of her layers. Sensing the anxiety in his voice, she stopped and made her way back onto the bed.

Erik felt the bed dip as she crawled back into it, but he could not anticipate her next move. He felt both of her hands press into the bed, just above his shoulders as she braced herself. And then she straddled him. He groaned, unable to hold it back from the sudden, unexpected sensation of having her hips so close to his own.

“Give me your hand, just one,” she insisted. He obeyed, lifting it from the headboard. Christine took it, his one hand easily enveloping her two smaller ones. She guided that hand to her face, first. She leaned into his palm, forcing him to caress her soft skin. She placed a slow, lingering kiss to his wrist before moving on to each of his long fingers. By the time she reached the last, she worked up the courage to give it an experimental taste. She just barely slid her tongue against his fingertip. The small, pleasured sigh that escaped him was all the encouragement she needed to continue. A longer, slower lick, followed by drawing that finger into her mouth completely. A sigh of her own escaped before she released his finger with a pop.

Erik could hardly process what was happening. How such a fateful encounter in the Bois had led to this. How his violent need to see her in that dress, just once, had overtaken him and now...she was sitting on top of him, teasing his wildest fantasies with her devilish lips. He was frightfully certain that he had, in fact, simply died. This could be some form of twisted torture.

She continued to guide his hand across her skin. Down her small, pretty neck. Along her collarbones and further south still until she placed his hand over the bare mound of her breast. He couldn’t help but gasp, feeling the slight hardness of her nipple brush against his palm. It shot another bolt of violent desire right between his legs, where she sat so close to, yet was so far away.

He moved her flesh in his palm, fully feeling the weight of it, the softness, he desperately wished that he could see it, too. Instead, he settled for further exploration of that hardened little peak. Erik brushed his thumb against it. The sound she made was clearly reigned in. He took the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it ever so slightly. The sound grew louder. When he pinched it tighter and twisted her skin, the sound turned into an outright cry.

“Erik!” She exclaimed, unable to control her body’s reaction. Her hips rolled into him. She reached for his other hand and pushed it into her other breast. Still covered by the fabric of her chemise, Erik had to reach inside to free it. She couldn’t help but cry out again as both his hands lavished her with attention. Oh, this sensation was far sweeter than he could have ever dreamed. Her hips kept moving against their will and he decided he needed to feel it against his own. His hands abruptly left her breasts and gripped her hips. He took the brief opportunity to feel the round curve of her rear, something he hadn’t been able to feel before, with all the pesky layers of silk in the way. Even through the thin fabric that remained, she was exquisite. He pushed on her hips, getting her to move down just a little bit further. He started rocking up and into her and she tried to stifle the sound in her throat.

”Is that better, my dear?” Erik asked, his voice a sultry purr. He could not see it but Christine bit her lip and nodded.

He resumed his exploration, this time leading his own way across her body. He felt her thighs, thick with the muscles of a practiced dancer. He slipped his hands beneath her chemise and felt her sides, her stomach and finally, the swell of her breasts again. He plucked and played with her nipples, taking note of every tiny sound from her. All the while, their hips grinded together, quickly finding a rhythm.

Suddenly, she wrestled the chemise off of her body, ripping the thin fabric in the process. Her body was unbearably warm, the garment was in the way, she no longer cared about maintaining any sort of modesty, especially while he was blindfolded. 

Her hands covered his, encouraging those beautiful, skeletal hands to grasp her breasts even harder, to twist her nipples further and dig his nails into that sweet, supple flesh. She moaned and writhed against him.

“For so long,” she panted, “For so long I have wanted you to touch me.”

“I...could not imagine that you would desire such a thing,” Erik admitted, his perfect voice faltering slightly.

“Then your imagination is lacking,” Christine replied, then leaning forward to make an attempt at untying the cravat at his throat. As soon as he realized she was struggling to manage it in her shaky, desirous stupor, Erik’s long fingers came to her rescue. His neck released from that fabric, her hands then went about trying to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. When that proved too difficult for her to handle, Christine simply grasped the fabric tightly and yanked it apart. It sent the buttons flying across the room. Erik hissed her name in warning as she ruined the expensive garment.

“I shall fix it tomorrow,” she answered, though her voice was distant. Christine found herself incredibly distracted by his newly revealed skin. Only his neck and chest, but it was enough to hypnotize her with the sharp rise and fall from his hurried breaths.

Her fingers explored his skin, it felt so cool like marble against the searing, boiling blood of her own. It was soft, the same texture that any other man’s would be, aside from the grayish color and the raised scars that started to appear near his collarbones. His neck was so long and beautiful and Christine barely registered what she was doing when her insistent lips collided with his again. The taste of him was just as addictive as the sound of his heavenly voice and she needed more and more.

She kissed his jaw and moved down to his neck, feeling his rapid pulse against her lips. She bit and sucked at his flesh and he groaned beneath her. It only spurred her on, filling her with the mad desire to devour him.

His hands slipped underneath the fabric of her drawers. When she paid it no mind, too distracted by lavishing his neck with desperate attention, Erik tugged at them. He pulled them off of her and she let him, lifting each leg to help kick them off of her body.

And then, even though he could not see it, he knew that she was completely nude. 

His hands hungrily moved across her revealed flesh, the swell of her hips, her soft rear, her bare thighs and the sweet secrets that laid between them. Her legs already spread, Erik could not resist inching his fingers closer and closer to the center of her, to that slit of flesh that seemed to be aching for him.

First, he felt the soft curls that framed her. She gasped, not expecting the gentle sensation. When she did not stop him, he continued, one finger traveling the length of her sex. The wetness immediately collected on that finger and he was suddenly possessed by the need to taste the liquid that had seeped from her innermost parts. A deep, pleasured growl escaped him as he licked it from his finger, taking care to find every sliver of the flavor on his skin.

“Touch me more,” she pleaded, caught off guard by just how badly that part of her had needed his attention.

“You are certain?” he rasped, hand already moving across her skin and back to her center.

In response, her teeth sunk deeper into his neck and she immediately soothed the sharp pain with her soft tongue.

Erik explored her more fully, his fingers finding the swollen bud hidden in the folds of flesh and the deeper opening inside them, too. With one finger, he teased that opening, circling it first before dipping it in her hot and hungry hole. It was so slick and deep and ready, he immediately slipped another finger inside her and pressed into her as far as he could reach. 

She whimpered from the foreign sensation, but Christine already knew that she wanted more of it. Her hips moved against his hand, trying to feel more of what was filling that emptiness she had not realized needed to be full. His fingers pushed into her, over and over and each movement brought another sweet moan from her lips and truly, he could handle no more of this torment.

He withdrew his hands and started to unfasten his trousers but lingering anxiety kept him from finishing the task. Christine leaned back, sitting on his thighs, wondering why everything had come to a halt.

“I am...unsure of being so...exposed,” Erik admitted, his voice low and almost pained, “You have seen so much of me and I have not--”

She cut him off with a finger pressed to his malformed lips.

“And you have felt more of me than I have seen of you,” she countered.

“You will regret this, Christine,” he rasped.

“No one will decide my regrets except myself,” she replied and then questioned him, “Will _you_ regret this?” For almost too long, he fell silent. Would he regret it on behalf of himself? No, but he was afraid that Christine would have remorse in the future, despite her assurances.

“No, I--” He started to reply but Christine decided to interject and try another tactic.

“Do you desire this, Erik?” 

“More than I’ve ever desired anything else,” the words left him before he could properly think about the ramifications.

“Then it’s settled,” Christine said as if it were the easiest thing in the world, masking her own nervousness with the bravado in her voice. It was so much easier to sound confident when she knew he could not see the uncertainty on her face. Her hands traveled down the length of his body, over his chest and thin stomach until they rested over his to encourage him to move forward.

Before he could overthink it, Erik complied and fully unfastened his trousers. With little help, his aching length sprung free from his clothing. Christine stared down at the thick organ with curiosity, immediately feeling a violent jolt between her legs. Having this part of him inside her would be far more satisfying than just having his fingers. It was slightly curved, the skin was the same translucent grayish tone as the rest of him but the tip was purple and throbbing, drops of clear liquid forming at the top.

Christine bit her lips together and could not stop herself from curling her fingers around the base of him. She experimented with loosely stroking it up and down, finding the action exhilarating as the liquid started to drip down the side of his shaft. Finally, she had seemed to have found a part of his body that was as warm and tortured as hers was. His breaths grew more ragged as he attempted to stifle his reaction to her touch. Encouraged by this, Christine tightened her grip and swept her thumb across his tip, sliding that slick substance across his skin. At that, Erik released a sonorous cry, overwhelmed by the intimacy.

She pumped him more, watching every little way his lips contorted to express his pleasure. She found it endlessly fascinating and arousing to watch him burn beneath her touch. If she had known she could reduce him to this with something so simple and invigorating, she would have tried much sooner!

“Christine,” he cried out, reaching to pull her hand away from his length, “I need, I need a moment.” At his insistence, she withdrew.

“Is something wrong?” she inquired softly, leaning down against him, trapping his hot shaft between their bodies. She felt it pressing into her stomach and she longed to have it pressing inside her center instead.

“Nothing is wrong, my dear, aside from that I would prefer to enjoy more of you than your wicked hands,” he explained and Christine smiled before lowering her lips to his. As if they had somehow forgotten how intense that contact between them could be, they devoured each other again. One of his hands weaved into her hair and pulled it tight, almost to the point of pain to desperately clutch her near. The other dug into her waist, crushing her to him so as much as their bare flesh that could, would touch.

Her hands held his face and he did not seem to mind when she did not tamper with the mask-turned-blindfold. They remained suspended in that moment for what felt like ages, losing themselves in the comfort of each other’s lips, the feral knowledge of what was yet to come and their mutual inexperienced hesitation.

It caught her off guard completely when his hand was again, between her legs and seeking her wet, fiery core. His fingers teased the dripping flesh of her entrance before paying attention to that swollen, hidden bundle of nerves. The white-hot, scalding bliss instantly overpowered her and almost threw her over the edge completely. Her hips bucked and she cried out, breaking their desperate lip-lock. In gentler waves, the pleasure washed over her as his finger found a softer, less intense motion.

“ _Lord_ , Erik, I need you,” she muttered against his lips, “I have lost my mind entirely and all that’s left is you.”

His response to her words was a hungry, rumbling growl as he firmly took her hips and positioned her closer to the throbbing cylinder of his sex. He grabbed the thing himself and buried the tip amongst her folds without outright entering her. She rocked her hips against him, unable to control her own body, chasing after the sensation the same mindless way she followed his heavenly voice. The motion was absolutely maddening.

“You truly desire this,” he whispered, less of a question and more of a realization. It was bad enough that he had not been allowed to watch the raw lust burn out through her eyes, to see her face as it cried out, begging for more of his ministrations and just as that was true, he had _felt_ her change and grow more frenzied with each of his greedy touches. At every step, she had refused to allow him to push her away.

And so he’d give her what she wanted.

He positioned his sex more clearly at her slick and dripping entrance and helped her guide her hips down. The thick head of him punctured her and they both gasped. It took only a moment for her to acclimate to that much of him, her needy flesh practically begging for the invasion. Christine eased herself down further until he was completely sheathed in her, putting so much exquisite pressure on all of her sensitive insides. She sat back on him, savoring her first taste of being satisfactorily filled. She moaned and grasped at her own breasts, pinching her own nipples as her sex began to demand more from her. Her hips bucked against him once, and then twice before she settled into the motion, his strangling grip on her pelvis helping to set the pace.

For so long, Erik had tried to imagine what this moment would feel like. For decades, he had fantasized about burying himself in a woman’s flesh. He had never been prepared for the truth of the maddeningly perfect sensation of being completely enveloped by her. His heart swelled as the pleasure washed over him. She was moving hard and fast above him, each thrust drawing more cries from her throat. It was torturous to know that her sweet skin and plump little breasts were bouncing just above him, where he could not see anything but the shadowed restraint of his mask. In the absence of being able to see her divine form, he needed more and more to chase his own pleasures. 

He adjusted his hold on her luscious hips and kept her slightly suspended in the air, not allowing her to crash down onto him again. For a brief moment, he paused, waiting for her to desperately cry to be filled again. The sound came quickly, a high-pitched whimper. He thrusted up and into her instead, finding his own brutal, bucking rhythm inside her silken flesh. Louder and louder she grew until Erik was quite certain she could be heard five stories above them. At such a manic pace, it was not a surprise when his own climax came forth with little warning. His length throbbed and pulsed within her and Erik wondered if her satiny insides could feel it when a low, different moan was pried from her lips. His milky seed spilled into her deepest parts, mingling with her own liquids. He gasped and nearly choked on the intensity of his pleasure. He froze, panting and waiting for the paralyzing bliss to dissipate. Above him, Christine panicked when their hips were no longer crashing together. She had not reached her peak, though the sensation had been close.

When it was clear to her that he was spent, she laid beside him on the bed instead, feverishly clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“I need more, Erik, I cannot _think,”_ she shook him and he was still recovering from the explosive experience. Distantly, he felt her attempts to tether him back down to this reality but it was not until he heard the slick, sticky sound of her attempting to pleasure herself that he began to come back.

He reached out for her and felt her small shoulder. Erik followed that line and gently curved his hand around the back of her smooth neck. He drew her towards him, his lips seeking hers to worship them all over again. Captured, she leaned into him, trying to entwine their limbs as much as possible. Her hand was still nestled between her own thighs, trying to fill that now horrendously empty space. Erik pushed it aside, taking over for the moment. Three of his fingers slid easily within her now and he tormented her with slow, languorous strokes. She pawed at his hand, trying to make him move faster, go deeper, touch her aching bud of nerves, but Erik would not comply. She whined louder and he withdrew from her completely.

“I suppose,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, her jaw and nipping at her ear, “More can certainly be arranged, my dear.”

He leaned back, reaching behind his own head to release the knot of his mask. The fabric fluttered into his other hand, revealing his horrible face fully to her. Her eyes widened with surprise, though she did not scream, nor run, her gaze was only dark and mad and hungry.

And then he blocked her vision by lunging at her and tying the mask around her eyes, “But this time, you shall be at _my_ mercy.”


End file.
